Twisted-Games

I liked to think my parents were up there, watching over me.
I wondered if I’d turned out the way they’d hoped, and if they were
proud. I wondered what they would say about Nikolai’s abdication, and
whether my mother knew I was the one who should’ve died that day in the
hospital, not her.
She should’ve been queen, not me.
At least she and my father were together. They were one of the lucky
couples who started off in an arranged marriage and ended up falling in love.
My father had never been the same after my mom’s death, or so everyone
told me. I’d been too young to know the difference.
Sometimes, I wondered if he’d lost control of his car on purpose so he
could join her sooner.
I turned my head to look at Rhys. My eyes had adjusted to the dark
enough that I could make out the tiny bump in his nose and the firm curve of
his lips.
“Have you ever been in love?” I asked, partly because I really wanted to
know, and partly because I wanted to pull my thoughts off the morbid path
they’d taken.
“Nope.”
“Really? Never?”
“Nope,” Rhys said again. He cocked an eyebrow. “Surprised?”
“A little. You’re old. You should’ve been in love at least three times by
now.” He was ten years older than me, which wasn’t that old at all, but I liked
teasing him when I could.
A deep, rich sound filled the air, and I realized with shock Rhys was
laughing. The deepest, loudest, realest laugh I’d pulled out of him yet.
It was beautiful.
“One love for every decade,” Rhys said when his mirth faded. “By that
calculation, you should’ve been in love twice by now.” The intensity of his
stare pierced through the darkness. “So tell me, princess. Have you ever been
in love?”
“No.” I returned my attention to the stars. “But I hope to be one day.”